Prologue
Kayden
It’s been three years of searching, destroying, killing, and saving. My particular skill set has come in handy as Franklin and I work toward dismantling the sex trafficking rings in California. We’ve rescued over thirty women so far and nearly a dozen kids. It’s a sobering thought, and yet, there are so many still out there. You see, I used to funnel the darkness inside of me by killing the men that society deems as monsters—the rapists and the abusers. Now, well… I still do that, but ever since we took down the Romani empire and saved those women, it has been my mission—my purpose—to save as many women and children that I can.
As the owner of Club LAX, I host all sorts of people in my venue. Most of those people have one too many drinks and their tongues start dropping all sorts of useful information. I have eyes and ears all over the club, so when men decide to come here to talk “business,” well, let’s just say it becomesmybusiness.
Lately, however, as each trafficking ring has been taken down, most of the other rings have experienced a ripple within their organizations, spooking them into hiding. Even though this makes it a little harder finding them, it’s still easy enough when you have the greatest hacker on the west coast working for you.
Franklin is my eyes and ears into a lot of these organizations. He hacks into cameras and security systems like it’s nothing. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. He gets his marks from me, gathers the necessary intel, finds where the captives are being kept, and then I move in for the kill. Even though Franklin is Jaxon’s best friend, we’ve become close in our shared mission, and I consider him one of my greatest friends and allies.
I have a designated team of men, mainly retired special ops that still have a lust for blood and a sense of duty, that accompany me on these missions. They clear the way into these operations and then I get to have a little fun with the ring leaders. Their screams don’t last long though; our mission is to get in and out with the women and children, secure them new lives, and then we move onto the next ring—rinse and repeat.
James, my brother, is well aware of my missions. But we decided early on not to get Jaxon or Melody involved. My little brother and sister-in-law have been attempting to get pregnant for the past two years, so we haven’t wanted to stress them out with these situations.
James knows I have a sense of purpose for all this, but he doesn’t know about the darkness that’s lurked under my skin my entire life. This is simply an outlet for it. Don’t get me wrong, he helps where he can, but it’s mainly Franklin, myself, and my team of men that get these women and children out and into safety. Most of them get new identities, though some are such high profile missing persons that we have no choice but to leave them in a safe place, fabricate a story that they provide to the authorities, and then tip off the police to their whereabouts. But for the nobodies, the women without family and the children that fell through a corrupt system, they get new identities, new lives, new everything.
After every mission, a team of doctors and nurses is waiting to evaluate and treat all new rescues at our home base, Eden,located in a warehouse downtown. Jackie, a therapist I keep on my payroll, provides free services to them long after their rescue. It’s a valuable resource for most of the victims, and they have access to it for the rest of their lives. In fact, Jackie is the same therapist that Melody started seeing after we rescued her from her kidnapper well over three years ago. Jackie’s one-on-one sessions are helpful, but what we have seen to be most impactful are the group sessions. There, the survivors don’t feel so alone in their trauma because they all have similar experiences, and it’s during these sessions that they form lifelong bonds.
On the nights I’m not working, sleep evades me. I’ve spent the majority of thirty-four years as a night owl though, so it’s not a huge problem. However, now when I do sleep, my dreams are plagued with beaten and abused women and children that I didn’t save in time. I usually jump awake, my skin cold and clammy, and the back of my neck dripping with sweat.
Failure is not an option in this line of work. Failure means lives are beaten, abused, and eventually ended.
I like to think I’m creating a better world for these victims, while also satisfying a darkness within myself. A darkness that has only grown since the Romanis. My little spitfire came out of that house and I’ve kept my distance, but I find myself chomping at the bit, eager to make her mine. I’ve stayed away, knowing my darkness will fluff out even the brightest light.
A light that I will do anything to protect.
One
Dani
It’s early in the morning and the sun hasn’t quite crested the horizon. I enjoy the early mornings before the hustle and bustle of the city becomes deafening. It’s peaceful, and peaceful is everything I strive for these days.
As I walk to the diner for a twelve-hour shift, I can’t help but get lost in my thoughts as I toy with my lip ring.
It’s been three years to the day since I was rescued from that hell hole of a trafficking ring. At the time I was an aspiring model going to a local photoshoot to build my portfolio. A man named Anthony had posed as a photographer for new and upcoming models, affordable enough for newbies such as myself. I never saw the drugging and kidnapping coming. I only lived in that house for a few days, being groomed to be a perfect little submissive for the men that would pay handsomely for such qualities in theirpets.
I was rescued along with a handful of other women that were caught in the same predicament that I was. My blue-eyed savior swept in, saved us, and I have never seen him again. Granted, I have been reaping the benefits of said saving ever since. Once we were rescued, we were brought to a warehouse to be evaluated and treated for our injuries.
After evaluation, we were given the option for new identities or to go back to our previous lives. Jess was long dead and buried, so I chose a new identity. Danielle Moore—Dani for short. I was set up with a job, money, and a place to live. Essentially, I had all my needs covered while I got back on my feet.
I wouldn’t say I’ve fully gotten back on my feet, though. I work at Bonetti’s Diner on the west coast of California where I barely make ends meet. It’s not really enough to pay bills, get groceries,andhave enough left over for hobbies or fun. We stay moderately busy and the tips are nice for a waitressing job, but that’s about it. I’m too anxious to put myself out there for much else. I have no idea what I would even want to do, to be honest. Modeling has been ruined for me, so here I am with waitressing.
I live modestly, even though I definitely have enough money to live comfortably because I was set up with an account which held a million dollars in my name. But I can’t bring myself to use any of it aside from the necessities—I don’t like feeling like I owe people. I make just enough to scrape by, and in the months where tips aren’t enough, I dip into the money only when I have to in order to pay the bills or put food on the table.
I live in a quaint, little apartment about eight blocks from the diner with my cat, Amzee. It’s not the best part of town but also not the worst. I chose it so that I don’t have to drive anywhere. The diner is within walking distance, and I can take the bus for the grocery and pet store. It’s not that I don’t like driving, I was given a car so I have the means, but I’ve become accustomed to my routine and I have a hard time straying from that comfort.
Not only were we given the means to start fresh, but they also set us up with therapy. Lord knows we all need it. I went to a few sessions the first two-and-a-half years, individual and group ones, but over the last six months I’ve slowly stopped going. I felt like I finally had the knowledge and coping skills, so I decided totry to do it on my own. See how far that got me? Still depressed and anxious, but at least semi-controlled with medication. I did meet my best friend at therapy, though. Melody has become a staple in my life. I was sitting in the lobby one day waiting for my name to be called for my appointment, when she approached me asking about my Sleep Token shirt. We’ve been besties ever since.
Walking up to the front doors of the diner, I take out my keys and unlock the door. Max is the cook, and he usually gets here before everyone else to prep the kitchen for the long day.
“Hey, Max, it’s just me,” I shout needlessly—I’m the only waitress that likes coming in this early. It’s only because I enjoy taking my time getting the restaurant ready for the day in the peace and quiet.
“Hey there, darlin’, how ya doin’?” Max replies, popping his head through the kitchen door. Max is short with a balding hairline and bright hazel eyes, and right now, those eyes are trained on me as I move about the restaurant, working on prep.
“Oh, you know, living the dream as usual. How was your weekend?” Weekends are the only time I refuse to work, and the owners of the diner are nice enough to accept that. It helps that I usually work ten to twelve hour shifts every day during the week.
“We were busy as usual. Ya know, we could use your help on the weekends, missy.” It’s always the same comment from him after every weekend. I just smile and nod my head.
